Eisritter
by Slayer End
Summary: 50 years after the Zero Requiem, a doll appears in a tomb somewhere in Britannia. [Commissioned by Magnaking]
1. Awakening

Two men walked across damp grass on an early September morning, their shadows lost among those cast by headstones from the rising sun. Tall buildings of glass and steel loomed a road's width away. They shined a bright orange, forcing the younger of the two men to avert his eyes.

"Ugh," he groaned. "It's too early…" The young man looked to the older man in search of sympathy, and found nothing in his flint grey eyes. There was no waiting for a response. Instead, there was a dejected sigh as the young man put his hands in his pockets and fixed his gaze ahead on the stone path. "So… what're we gonna clean up this year?"

The older man sighed. "Beer cans." He replied, his voice gravelly. "Maybe a few bottles. Damn drunks."

"We're leaving the caps and cigarettes, yeah?"

"We can leave a few. It'd be unreasonable otherwise. But keep it _presentable_."

"For that tomb?"

"We're all equal in death."

"Amen."

There was a pause.

Then, the older man took a moment to slap his companion upside the head.

"Ow!" The younger man snapped, "The hell was that for?"

"This ain't church, boy, and I ain't running a sermon." He glared at the younger man. "You keep that sass under control."

And the younger man's similarly grey eyes stared back. "Yeah, yeah…" he waved a hand. The older man lifted his arm, and the younger flinched. "Alright, already…! I get it."

The older man chuckled, "I'd hope so." His hand went back down to his side. Stepping ahead of the younger man, he raised his voice as if to start a tirade. "You know, when I was your age…" and he stopped. He stared ahead towards the center of the cemetery.

"Yeah? When you were my age, what?" The younger man asked, coming up from behind the older man. Before he too, stopped and stared.

In the center of the cemetery, an old, cracked mausoleum stood. Where once it was white marble, years of aging and abuse had taken its toll on the structure… but though the metal gate that sat in front had rusted and worn, there was precious little explanation for their warped and decimated state.

Pieces of concrete and marble clung to the bent hinges of gates that were left scattered on the ground. Dirt was upturned, as if torn through by a car's wheels. The destruction continued along the path away from the center of the cemetery, towards one of the outermost walls, and _through_ the uppermost par. A scattering of bricks was left behind to dampen in the morning dew.

And still, the two men stood and stared.

"Damn drunks."

-x-

It was a wide, open, well-lit auditorium. A middle-aged man of Asiatic descent stood front and center of the stage, a clicker in one hand as the other rested on the podium. His attention was shared between the images behind him, and the audience in front.

"…This system inspired a great deal of loyalty among new recruits – that promise of being a part of something greater and higher than one's self. But the system encouraged discrimination, division, and a lack of coordination combined with an adherence to borderline suicidal tactics and training. Taken together, it brought a great deal of citizens into the military… only to have them killed in human wave tactics that assumed numbers that were not present."

The man's voice was crisp and clear, leaving no room for argument. His thumb came down, and with the audible push of a button, the screen behind him changed to a set of graphs. The man grimaced as if pained, and looked away.

"Eighty-thousand, sixty-eight thousand, one hundred-thousand… –You'll notice these are all estimates. Britannian records of Numbers and Honorary Britannians lost in combat would only count casualties of non-homelanders as a means of propaganda. But in more open conflicts, especially with the Black Knights, official numbers of casualties were always lowered."

Another click – a picture of a man cradling a cracked helmet and staring at nothing in particular took up the screen. He was covered in ashes and surrounded in destroyed buildings. "But it gets worse than that. The ideal Honorary Britanian soldier required the mentality to march to his own execution without complaint, and to perform crimes of war on the part of the Britanian government without compunction. This–" the man gestured emphatically "–is Hanagima Shu. An Eleven at the time, he was convicted of a crime he did not commit _after_ being ordered to bomb the Shinjuku Ghetto. He walked to a mock trial less than a week after the fact, and was executed alongside dozens of other men and women just like him."

His thumb pressed down once more. "This system," the man continued, "Was a disaster. It encouraged mass civilian death as a means of psychological pressure on enemies made by the state, often to the state's benefit. Whatever good the early days of the system brought, they were far outweighed by the negatives." Another graph stood tall, showing in various colored bars the total losses of life. "Are there any questions?"

Someone raised their hand.

"Yes?"

The person stood, "Sir Kururugi–"

"Suzaku." The man interrupted. "Please. No titles."

"…Suzaku, ah…" the person, a young woman, shuffled through her notes. "You were one of those men, yes? Someone falsely accused and sentenced to death? When you were saved by Zero's actions, you continued walking towards what was surely your own execution. Why?"

The man on the stage took a deep breath, and he sighed.

"I wanted to die."

-x-

"You can't keep _telling people that_ , Sir Kururugi!" a young woman with bright blue hair insisted.

"I can't?" The older man feigned confusion, "But I could have _sworn_ I told that whole room…"

The young woman growled, stepping closer towards him. Her pumps clacked against the tiled floor, " _Don't_ you get cute with me! I know what you're doing, and I won't let you just _sabotage_ your legacy like this!"

Suzaku's stare was flat and unbothered, "My legacy consists of lies and murder."

"But you freed Japan, and the rest of the world! You revolutionized our society! You–"

"Murdered my closest friend after betraying him multiple times, stole his alter ego for myself, and abandoned my former identity for twenty years." Suzaku put his hand on the young woman's shoulder, "Boudicca. I _do not_ have a legacy to be proud of."

"…But still… You're the Knight of One! _And_ you're the Knight of Zero! And… and…" Her retort, once full of fire, seemed to die in the face of Suzaku's visible inability to care. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to list off another title. "And… you're retired."

"Discharged."

Boudicca flinched. "I… I mean, I wouldn't put it like that…"

"Call it what it is," Suzaku said. "I represented a problematic era of Britannian politics, and if they didn't discharge me then I wasn't going to retire." Even after decades of speaking the standard Britannian English dialect, there was no removing the slight accent in his words. "If the monarchy was still in power, we both know I'd have been _shot_ instead."

"And I'm sure you'd have preferred that." The words left her mouth before she could stop herself. Boudicca's eyes widened, as if she'd been caught with her hand in a cookie jar, and she averted her gaze. "Sir Kururugi, I… I'm so sorry. That was inappropriate of me. I–"

"Just a moment," he interrupted her, paying Boudicca no mind as he fished a vibrating phone out of his pocket. "Aron…? I take it this isn't a friendly call." He paused. "…I see. What time should I be over?" Another pause, "…I have another two lectures today, but I can reschedule…" There was one last pause. "I see. Two o' clock, then? …Alright. Ah, and tell your mother I said hello–?" Suzaku frowned, and exhaled. "He really has to stop hanging up on me like that." He grumbled, staring at his phone's screen.

Boudicca raised an eyebrow, "Aron… Kozuki? What would the chief of police want with you at this time of day?"

"I suppose we'll find out together. In the meantime, I suppose I have some lectures to reschedule…"

Boudicca frowned, "Oi – you don't get to sound so put upon, Sir Kururugi! I'm the one who's going to be doing the work, and… stop laughing, damn it!"

-x-

Aron Kozuki ran a hand through bright red hair as he examined a set of tracks left in the torn up cemetery grounds. He'd taken a knee, and felt the individual grooves and indentations left behind by a set of tire tracks. "They found it like this a few hours ago." He explained, "I thought you'd want to come and take a look."

"I understood that much from our conversation over the phone, Aron–"

"Chief."

"–I'm not calling you that." Suzaku replied, bored. "But I don't understand why _I'm_ the one you called before anybody else."

"…Don't play me for a fool, Kururugi." Aron growled, "This has your ilk written all over it."

"Ilk?"

"Black Knight _bullshit_. You know what I mean, and you know whose tomb this is. I want to know, right here and right now, does this have anything to do with that garbage plan you and your buddy cooked up fifty years ago?"

Suzaku's hand clenched. "First of all, it wasn't a _garbage plan_."

"Uh huh."

"And secondly, how would I, or Lelouch, have gone about doing this?"

"…" Aron stared, his bright blue eyes almost glowing as he crouched in the afternoon shadow of the mausoleum. "See, that's what I want to know. Because those gates weren't blown _in_ from some car hopping the wall… they were blown _out_. So how'd you do it, Kururugi? How'd you bury that demon in a car instead of a coffin, and who drove his body away?"

"You're being facetious."

"I'm grasping at straws because there's nothing else _to_ grasp. I need _something_ , Kururugi! I can't just turn around and tell everyone that the Demon Emperor's corpse fucking _drove away_. You're the most likely person I can think of who'd have an idea of what this means, and if you're telling me you've got _nothing_ , then there's someone running around with a corpse of Britannian royalty and we don't know who."

"So what?" Suzaku shrugged, "Last time I checked, Lelouch wasn't a very popular man. Most of this seems like it was going to happen inevitably, so all you really need to do is just find the body and the people who stole it. How they did it shouldn't matter."

"…You know it's not that easy." Aron's teeth were clenched, "If it was just a bunch of kids, that'd be one thing. But this isn't that. This is something that – just… Just look, who else am I going to blame for this? Who else can I point to and say "That man did it"? Even if I take you at your word, your association with this man _still_ makes you the prime suspect."

Boudicca stood off to the side, a worried expression on her face as she approached parts of the scene. An officer would step in, and she would be forced to distance herself from whatever caught her interest.

Even so, nothing was stopping her from looking, and nothing prevented her from watching as water trickled out the opening of the mausoleum. "...that's odd." She murmured, "Hey, what's this? The water, I mean. These things are supposed to be air-tight, right?"

One of the officers followed her pointing finger, "That? It's a little weird… the whole inside of the mausoleum was soaking wet. It was cold this morning, so it was mostly ice… but…" The officer paused, "Who did you say you were again?"

"Ah, well, I'm just… uh… Sir Kururugi? Assistance, please?" She looked towards Suzaku, waving her hand.

Suzaku offered an easy smile and a shrug to Aron, and the other man sighed. "She's fine, just let her be." The police chief said. "But no touching – this is a crime scene, first and foremost."

"…She did raise an interesting point about the water. Maybe some piping broke?" Suzaku proposed.

Aron shook his head. "First thing we thought of. No sewage lines, nothing from the main and secondary water lines, no wiring… there's nothing under the ground except a couple hundred stiffs and the coffins they call home." He took a moment to survey the area again, "A few hundred minus one, at least."

"Then where did the water come from?" Suzaku asked, a hand to his chin.

"It couldn't have been rain," Boudicca announced. "All this water is localized to the tomb."

"So how many mysteries does that leave us with…?" Suzaku mused aloud, "I count three so far."

Aron pinched his brow and sighed. "I didn't need this shit."

"Look at the bright side," Boudicca offered, "The water, the tread marks, the way the gate was forced open," She listed with one hand, "However this happened there is _certainly_ a logical explanation for it!"

"…Yeah," Suzaku replied. "Almost certainly."

A logical explanation – sure, that was a possibility. But logic just required premises and conclusions. It just required having a starting point and an ending point. There was no rule that logic _couldn't_ involve something not so easily explained, or that logic _couldn't_ refer to something that always seemed difficult to nail down.

Suzaku looked at Aron, respect radiating off him in waves. The other man had the right idea coming to him – and it wasn't like Suzaku could blame him for not knowing the _full_ story of the Demon Emperor.

And as a matter of fact, Aron had a good idea coming to Suzaku. The person who was closest to Lelouch _would_ know if something like this was planned.

…That person wasn't Suzaku. He was unashamed to admit that much. But he had a feeling he knew who it was.

So as the men searched, Suzaku offered his comments and remarks. And when all was said and done, when nothing of significance was found, Suzaku resolved himself to finding a certain green-haired witch.

-x-

Stars clashed.

Suns detonated.

The void between the light grew smaller as more lights formed, and others dimmed to make room for a vacuum built to be filled with explosions of unheard noises and unseen flashes. Another detonation – serpents the length of the unknown roared and clashed.

Red and blue, with white always in the middle – it was hardly a tempering force as fragments of metal flew and twirled in majestic patterns before coming to a stop. They folded, splitting and curling away towards the surfaces of planets millions of lightyears away, and when they reformed… something was holding them.

Dolls stuffed with what was supposed to be cotton rested in their corners, their hosts to be literally shackled to an artificial destiny. Others stalked their targets for days. And others still sat waiting behind glass windows as little price tags grew from polyester skin.

And one more fell through folding space, leaving behind the infinity of stars before coming to a rest on a glass case.

The doll was morbid in design – a cartoonish emperor penguin covered in electrical burns, its intestines dangling free. With either flipper, it pressed the metal band it held through the casket resting on a pedestal.

Light cast from the material faded, plunging the inside of the crypt into pitch blackness.

There was a long, deep gasp. The coffin's lid shook. There was thumping, audible shouts of panic as the lid shook twice, then a third time. Finally, there was a detonation of ice. The lid was forced away, falling to the opposite side of the small room at the bottom of the stairway, and a young woman crawled free from her confines.

She took deep breaths of what little air she could, her chest ached from underuse as it strained against an overly ornate shirt not meant for her form. Her purple eyes were wide and wild in search of something. On her wrist, a black manacle hummed.

The woman tried speaking, and only managed to cough before she stumbled to her knees. Suddenly and violently ill, she vomited hissing plastics and methanol. Formaldehyde froze over, and the woman sobbed as _years_ of embalming substances expelled themselves from her shaking, quivering form.

Then and only then, in the dead silence of the tomb, dressed in the clothes of a dead man and surrounded in ice and vomit, did the emperor penguin choose to speak.

"Yo!" Its voice was coy. "Welcome back to the world of the living!"

The woman on the stone floor continued gasping. She shook, and shivered, "W… What…?" Her voice was hoarse from years of disuse. Time and emaciation melted from her form as she looked towards the doll, "What _is_ this…?" Her head felt foggy, her mind was playing tricks on her.

She was… alive…? She held her hands out in front of her, but saw nothing. There was no light this deep into the tomb… and she knew she was in a tomb. Everything stank of rot, rock, and old chemicals. Though, in all fairness, the latter was mostly her fault.

"That arm shows proof of the contract, the Bracelet of Oaths!" recited the doll, "That is what we say."

"Arm?" The woman asked aloud, grasping at herself in search of this _bracelet_ – there it was, wrapped around her right wrist. She looked at it, focused on it, and… it glowed. A soft, purple light radiated from the thing on her arm. For a flicker of a second, she thought she saw a familiar set of wings engraved onto it.

But no, it was a solid black shape as if carved from some kind of metallic granite. There were no cuts or grooves to indicate it was made in a factory, or by hand. Was it welded? Or– "My, you're a real thinker… aren't you?"

"Who are you?"

"I say, point your light at me and let me see you, oh champion!" The doll giggled, its voice carrying through the tomb.

The woman frowned, doing as instructed, and a light was cast upon the emperor penguin. She stared at it, then began turning her arm away in search of the person who _unquestionably_ was toying with her. "No, no, the other way!" Came the doll's voice, "You know it to be true, and that's what I'm saying!"

…With great reluctance, the woman pointed her bracelet at the stuffed animal. "There you go, says I. Lemme try again… Yo!" It waved a flipper, "You have been chosen for a battle unlike any other! Congratulations~!"

"I refuse."

"…Eh?"

"I can accept returning from the dead. I can accept my body being changed," she gestured to her form with her left hand, keeping her right pointed towards the doll. "I can even accept that you can talk. But… _I will not fight your battle, whoever you are._ " Her voice was firm and clear in its tone, leaving no room for argument. She glared at the doll where it rested, and dared it to defy her.

"…I see, says I. I truly, truly see." The doll sighed, "But it is not for me to decide what you will do, only to announce that you shall do it, and that is what we say."

"Who?" The woman asked, "Who is telling you this? I demand to know…" She paused, "I _demand_ it… I _order you_ …" She frowned, one hand coming up to her aching temple. "…It's not working…?"

"Why would it? That Power of Kings… you were dead, yes?" asked the doll, "Dead as dead could be, sees I and so I say. A sword through the chest is not something you humans can survive. Not even kings can survive it! So… don't be surprised that you can do so little."

The woman eyed the doll, but still there was no trepidation. Just a cool, collected acceptance of the strange world around her, all fitted around a gaze harboring steel. "You know about the Geass."

"It is one of many systems we know of, says I." The penguin nodded, "Is that such a wonder? Is it truly a marvel?"

"…No. I suppose it isn't."

"You've got moxie, and spunk. One or both, I say! Trying to use the Power of Kings on a _Messenger_ … how brave of you…! But it is fitting. You are one of the elite fighters of the galaxy! You… are a **Kampfer**!"

The woman flinched at the word. There was something wrong about it. It was… German? But it also wasn't. Other syllables seemed to be spoken beneath the phrase, and trying to recall them left her with a splitting headache. She grit her teeth and tried anyway, to try and hear what that was–

 _ **K̙̰͉̀A̶̪̜͔̺̘M͓̳͎̱̟̻PF̮̝E̹̰̪R**_

The light flickered out, and she found herself dry heaving once again. Something trickled out of her nose – was that blood? It felt like blood.

In the dark of the tomb, the doll continued watching her. She looked up, expecting its eyes to shine, expecting something, anything – but there was nothing to be seen. Cold, creeping terror wrapped its hand around her heart. But once more she stood, and once more she focused on the doll.

…It was gone.

"Wow, they buried you with it~!"

She spun on her heel, pointing the bracelet towards the coffin filled with ice. And there the doll sat, focused on a sword. It still had some of her blood stained on it, and it stood encased in ice. The doll looked at the blade, as if marveling at its design.

"That's pretty dark, huh?" The doll stared at her, unblinking and unfeeling. Its voice carried a light quality to it. The woman realized then that this thing _did not_ view her as a threat. A cold sweat broke out on her neck, but she did not step away. She did not run.

Because… where could she go? She was trapped here with this _thing_.

"…You're eyeing it." The doll spoke. "I can tell. You're planning on getting out of this by finishing the job, right? That's how I say it." It stared at her, and it was almost comical the way its intestines swung as it turned its head. "You don't want to do that. I _promise_ you don't."

"If you know what Geass is and if you came here… then you probably know who I am."

"Yes to both, says I."

"Then tell me. Why _shouldn't_ I kill myself? This tomb…" She gestured around her, "Was _filled_ with cobwebs. Nobody has come in here for years. _Decades_ , I'd bet. If I killed myself, that would be the end of it. Nobody would know, and there would be nothing you or whatever sent you could do."

"You could do that, but then the world would forget all about you."

"People forget former emperors all the time. I'm hardly exempt – I don't remember every single Emperor. Of _course_ I'll be forgotten one day!"

"You don't understand? That's fine, so if that stick won't work… have another, so we say. If you do not participate in this fight, your world will be designated as aberrant, its citizens will be eliminated, and the proxy war will claim another planet~! How's that?"

"…Excuse you?"

"Three times!" The penguin held up a flipper, "Three times you've asked me to repeat myself! I keep saying it, and you just won't listen to me. _You have been chosen to fight a battle_. You are a **Kampfer** now. And if you refuse to fight, your world will be forfeit, so we say. Is that concise? I say, does that help? Hmm? _Hmm?_ "

"You're threatening all the people outside this tomb because I won't play your game?"

"Threatening…? Hmm, no. Not really. Just stating facts." The penguin tilted its head, "You are the Demon Emperor, Lelouch vi Britannia. No matter your changes, no matter your shape or power… that is what this world needs to survive. I am not here to threaten, I say. I am here to warn you of the stakes, and offer you what is needed to save the day~!"

"You took my Geass, threw me into a world I know nothing about, and you're expecting me to work from absolutely nothing." The woman summarized, "As I am now, I don't even resemble who I used to be. I…" She paused, moving the bracelet towards one of the pillars of ice formed from her escape from the coffin. The woman checked her reflection. "…I look like my mother."

"A woman long dead, remembered by people long dead – consider it as another charge into Hell, Lelouch vi Britannia. A fresh start at throwing yourself into a meat grinder~! This should feel nostalgic to you, I say!"

"Shut up."

"Did I touch a nerve? I _know_ you, Lelouch vi Britannia. I know you as every _Messenger_ knows their **Kampfer**. I know your strengths, your weaknesses, the things you hate, and the things you love. And I _know_ you will say yes to me, I say." The penguin's tone became smug, "You _will_ leave this place as a **Kampfer**. You _will_ fight."

" _Never_."

"Then Nunnally will die."

Her breath hitched. She swallowed. "You…"

"I wasn't bluffing, I say. I know you better than anyone else has ever known you. This is not a bargain. This is not a deal. This isn't even an order. _This is an ultimatum_. Save this world, or watch it and everything you've worked towards be turned to ash."

She stood there, waiting and deliberating on her decision. She was still dressed in the outfit they buried her in – all whites and golds, far too prim and proper for a mass murderer and a monster. She could feel the melted embalming fluids through her shoes, but they did not sting or hurt her.

The woman flexed her hands – she felt… _strong_. Stronger than she'd ever had any right to feel, like she could run the marathon track at Ashford Academy a dozen times without stopping, without being _winded_. Each breath she took, she could feel her strange new body press against the tailor-made outfit, and there was no avoiding the thoughts she entertained as she stared into the ice.

Lelouch vi Britannia had been revived as something else, and he – _she_ – didn't know what any of it meant. But she had destroyed continents for the sake of her sister. What was this in comparison except more of the same? Nothing new, to be sure… nothing she wasn't used to.

"…Say I agree to this," she looked at the doll. "What happens then?"

"We bust out of this tomb and go hunting."

"…Hunting for what?"

"Miscreants. Threats. Dangers. We search for the **Kampfer** that threaten your world, and then we kill them. That ought to be right up your alley… isn't it?"

"It isn't. And I will never hold that position again, not as long as I live. But… what point is there in saving a world only to have it doomed a few years later?"

And in the darkness of that tomb, though she could not see the doll, Lelouch was _certain_ it was smiling.

-x-

End Eisritter Ch.001


	2. Stressing

The blank stares of mannequins watched the empty roads and sidewalks through a windowpane of processed glass as a figure darkened by shadows cast by outside streetlights sifted through shirt after shirt on a silver rack. Fingers made white by a coating of frosted over ice glistened as they pulled up a sleeve for a more thorough examination. Lelouch's gaze was met with fine, factory-woven stitching that far outstripped what he was used to.

"Nothing?" asked the doll, kicking its legs as it sat on the unopened register. Its plush body didn't so much as squeak each time it hit the machine, and its ghostly silence had led Lelouch to almost forget someone was watching him.

He… _she_ … paused. "Nothing what?" Lelouch asked, regarding the doll with a flat stare save for a single raised eyebrow. "You seem unimpressed."

"I am, says I! Aren't you supposed to be brilliant?"

Lelouch didn't so much as blink. "I've been called that, yes."

"Then where's the monologue? What happened to explaining your plan, huh? I say, I thought you'd have more to brag about!"

"You're confusing intelligence with arrogance." Lelouch went back to checking the shirts, frosted fingertips moving in smooth, delicate patterns. Not a drop of water fell from the ice.

"At least explain where you learned how to pick locks, as I say!" The doll whined, "Come on~! Tell me~!"

Lelouch sighed, "Alright… Not all locks are the same, you understand. After Britannia invaded Japan, I taught myself to pick the locks of basements and storehouses. When things settled down and I was getting a bit rusty, I practiced by occasionally locking myself out of club rooms."

"There's a big difference between old basements and club rooms, says I. And that lock is much newer than what you're used to~! It's electronic, too! I can see it blinking from here~!"

"If you want to know how I did it, I'll need more answers from you." Not bothering to pause as she searched, Lelouch held up a finger. "First, explain this."

"This?"

"My ice." Lelouch clarified.

"Ah~! You are a **Kampfer**."

Lelouch stopped and turned to stare. "…And?"

"I never explained? I thought I did… A **Kampfer** __is–"

"You mentioned I was a warrior. That does not explain my ice, or what happened at the graveyard."

"I see, I see! I think I understand your confusion~! Alrighty, says I, here's how it works! **Kampfer** come in three types: _Zauber_ , _Gewehr_ , and _Schwert_. Magic, gun, and sword!"

"And yet I've used two of those things. So am I to believe that I am somehow special, and most others can only be one of those types?" Lelouch asked, going back to work.

"…Hmm… I dunno if I should answer that. We're playing _your_ game, yes? A question for a question?"

"Fair enough." Lelouch pulled out a shirt that fit. It was a short-sleeved, collared shirt. Plain, simple, perfect for blending in, "I picked the lock using my ice. Its sensor detects heat and required a key card with a magnetic strip – I've seen them before. So, I fooled the lock into thinking that a card was being slipped through by cooling it until the current was interrupted."

"And getting it on your first try?"

"Blind luck." Lelouch slipped the shirt on, trying to ignore how it felt against her bare chest. "That's two questions by the way. My turn, I appear to be able to use two different sorts of Kampfer abilities–" Lelouch took a moment to reflect on how odd it felt to say that word. It sounded wrong coming out of her lips, as if it lacked the proper emphasis. "–so how is that the case?"

"A **Kampfer's** type only denotes what they specialize in. So I say; it is entirely possible for any **Kampfer** to learn their magic, master a blade, or use a gun. Each **Kampfer** has a close range weapon, a long range weapon, and a form of magic they are predisposed to… but most **Kampfer** focus on one of the three above all others and most **Kampfer** are predisposed to using one type or another anyway, I say. You are not unique because you can use these different types, but instead you are unique because you are not predisposed to any of them."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, yet." Lelouch sighed. If the doll was telling the truth, and so far Lelouch had little evidence that it was lying, then it was basically saying that Lelouch lacked any specialization at all. Though, if Lelouch had to have some kind of preference so far, he'd have declared it to be magic.

…Actually, as he thought more about it, this… might be a really bad thing.

Lelouch frowned. From a pure numbers standpoint, if she assumed that each Kampfer _without_ specialty started with ten "units" of ability in each of the three fields… then a Kampfer with a predisposition to one of those fields would either have _more_ "units" than her in total, _or_ that Kampfer would have the same number of units but they would be distributed differently.

"Do the types have advantages over each other?" Lelouch asked.

The doll waved its flipper, as if to say "so-so" and shrugged. "It's debatable, I say. Some argue that magic users have an advantage against gun users, gun users have an advantage against sword users, and sword users have an advantage against magic users, but that's all theory-talk, so I declare." It pointed a flipper at Lelouch, "What is a _sword?_ What is a _gun?_ What is _magic?_ There is no conventional wisdom in a fight between **Kampfer** , only that they fight."

"But they are clearly unique enough to denote a unique pre-specialization." Lelouch objected, "Are you suggesting that a Kampfer who naturally specializes in rifles isn't going to have an advantage against a Kampfer who specializes in nothing?"

"I suggest that each **Kampfer** is unique. How they play their cards is up to them, I say. Also… that's two questions you asked! You cheater, Lelouch! Play fair with your own game, why don't you?"

"Playing fair is an excellent way to lose." Lelouch smirked, "And that counts as a question."

"…Fast and loose, says I. So very fast and loose – well then! Okay! Tell me this, why did you discard your robes?"

"The ones I was buried in?"

"Yes!"

"…Because I was _buried_ in them? Because they were tattered beyond recognition after the first block…?" Lelouch trailed off, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh. _Oh_. I think I see what's happening here…" The doll put a flipper to its chin. "Lelouch. As a **Kampfer** , you only need to have materials for an outfit in order to construct one. Had you kept the robes, I say, you could have pressed your bracelet and made a new outfit for yourself from scratch."

Lelouch completely stopped what she was doing. "What."

"It's true! **Kampfer** must be able to traverse whatever society they are in. Not all **Kampfer** will be from the same continent, and not all **Kampfer** will have an easy time hiding without something to make it easier. So if you press your bracelet, you can use whatever you are wearing to create the first outfit that pops into your mind! Concentrate a little and you can make it look however you want."

The former demon emperor, the destroyer of countries and last true ruler of the world, stared at the doll with a mouth pulled open in shock. She shut her mouth, then made to ask a question… and stopped. She thought about it.

In that moment, Lelouch was about to ask why the doll didn't tell her. But more pressing was why she'd _need_ to hide at all. Up until now, she had assumed that she would need to hide for obvious reasons – she closely resembled who she used to be, she needed a new outfit and a new identity, she was literally wearing her old outfit after fleeing a graveyard… but these didn't seem to be things of concern for the doll.

As a matter of fact, Lelouch could detect a sort of amusement drifting off of it in waves as it continued staring at her. The doll's eyes lacked expression; it could not smile or frown. And yet still it played with her.

…It didn't tell her about that feature because it was having fun. But why have the feature at all? And it was common among all Kampfer, so other Kampfer had to know about it. That was a feature that existed to allow Kampfer to hide – if it wasn't meant to let Kampfer hide from each other, then who could it be helping Kampfer hide from?

Lelouch dry swallowed. "One more question. What happens if I'm seen by someone who isn't a Kampfer?"

The doll stared at her. Then, it began chuckling. "Ohohohoho~!" It chortled, putting a flipper on its dangling intestine as if imitating a belly laugh. "Ohohoho~! That's a good question~! Well… Well, well…" The doll tilted its head, "You would be eliminated, and I would be the _messenger_ to one of the witnesses."

…No.

Lelouch's hand gripped into a fist. Her knuckles whitened as she glared daggers at the doll. "You can't do that…" She said, "You brought me back to _life_. There's no way you'd be that fickle!"

"It's not me that's being fickle, says I." The doll replied. "Those are the rules. I don't make them. I just follow them, and I'll explain them if I'm asked, so I say."

"…I see. So by making me into a Kampfer, you've forced me into a perpetual hostage situation. One wrong move on my part, and not only will I die but someone who is almost guaranteed to be less qualified for fixing this problem will take my place."

"You're catching on faster and faster. My, you're smart." The doll drawled, clapping its flippers. "I wish I were that quick on the draw! I've already lost track of all these questions, says I. But enough of that… aren't you going to test it? Your ability to make new outfits? Hmm…? Hmmmm…?"

"You disgust me." Lelouch sighed, "Let's just get this over with." She put a hand to her bracelet and concentrated. The first outfit that came to her mind… the first outfit…

…Bright flashing lights, spinning with vibrancy belying their lack of substance, Lelouch watched as they wrapped and clashed. They exploded into sparkles of white that eclipsed her limbs and left behind cloth that wrapped around her body in extending strips that grew more and more.

Underwear first, then a simple undershirt for modesty, a dark jacket, a pair of pants, off gold trim climbing up a collared neck – Lelouch chanced a peek, opening one eye to see the way her outfit warped and shifted.

Then, it stopped. Half-formed clothes clung to her body, shirts and pants mid-transition from one kind of cloth to another hung off of her like rags, feeling unnaturally stiff as they pulled at her.

"Hm? What's wrong, Lelouch? Too many memories with that outfit?" The doll taunted her.

Lelouch cringed, gritting her teeth. She knew that Ashford Academy had a special place in her heart – she'd called it her home for several years. But to think the first outfit she'd think to put on would be that old uniform… Lelouch took a deep, calming breath. Pressing a hand to her face, she shuddered.

"Haah… Hahaah…" A nervous laugh left her, "I see how it is… This is nothing like the graveyard. I can't just close my eyes and let things naturally progress…" Lelouch cupped herself, feeling where new stitching gave way to older fabric that stretched uncomfortably taught against her assets. "And because of who I used to be… the first outfit that comes to mind won't fit this body of mine."

It was impossible to say if this was made better or worse by the fact that Lelouch knew how to sew, and thus had experience making her own outfits before she'd died. Back when she wasn't… _her_ …

Lelouch frowned. "Alright, let's try this again." She took another deep breath, and she kept her eyes open. It seemed there was no way for her to just _ignore_ what she used to wear, or who she used to be. So maybe a different direction was necessary…?

She focused, letting the light of her power guide threads along their path as the fabric began transitioning shapes and forms again. The collar lowered and opened into a V-neck, the trim of her old uniform fading into a light yellow. Darker colors brightened into a lighter, softer purple color. The sleeves were still long, but now they were baggier. She'd have to roll those up…

Buttoning her shirt up, Lelouch simplified the tanktop between her bra and her shirt. Thin, basic white – that would be enough for now. Then her pants… those ended up being a better fit, hugging the curve of her thighs before flaring out towards her ankles. They lost their color, fading into a light blue. Maybe… denim would be better…? Just the thought of shifting to that fabric threatened to ruin the ensemble, and Lelouch rejected the idea with a wave of her hand.

The shoes were next. Just a pair of running shoes for now – those would suffice. White, with plain laces. No need for any dramatic flair. No capes, no gold trim, no dramatic poise or high collars – this was just a standard, normal outfit. Lelouch sighed, eyeing herself in the full length mirror offered by the store.

She reached out, touching the glass and marveling at her reflection. With her other hand, she swept back her hair. It was long – _far_ too long. But… "I hate everything about this, you realize." Lelouch's tone was even as she stared into her reflection. "I hate being brought back to life… being changed into a body I'm unfamiliar with… More than anything, I _detest_ this face."

Her hand cupped her chin as she turned her head every which way, carefully observing her cheekbones and the curves of her eyes. "You mentioned that before," the doll noted. "Something about looking like your mother, I say."

"Too much like her," Lelouch murmured, "My eyes are narrower, and darker. That's probably from my father. And my hair is wavier. But I have her face, mostly."

"…You sound uncertain, says I." The doll remarked.

Lelouch barked a bitter laugh. "No, really? I have no plan, I appear to be at a disadvantage, there could be a Kampfer around any corner and I wouldn't know, I look similar enough to my mother that a cursory glance through a history book could expose me, and if I'm found out then I'll be put back in the ground as the fate of the planet falls into the hands of one of the unfortunate people who figured out the truth. _Uncertain_ is putting it _lightly_."

Then, Lelouch stopped herself and stared at the bulbous object in the upper corner of the room. She could see the little round lens of a camera as it swerved back and forth, and terror gripped her then. " _Damn it_." Lelouch swore, moving towards the locked door at one end of the room.

Ice formed around a door handle, forcing it into a brittle state. With a tug, she snapped it free and began searching… a closet. "No, no, no, no, no…" She panicked. Of all things, she forgot to disable the security camera. Lelouch vi Britannia was about to be defeated by a _security camera_ in a goddamned clothing store.

She fell to her knees, pressing her hand against the floor. Her power over ice prodded and searched for something for her to freeze… and there, she found it. Through her fingertips, she could _feel out_ a map of the underside of the store. And right there, she felt a pipe just under the floor boards – it most likely led to a sink somewhere in the back room. But with a little bit of ice, and some careful application of force, she could cover her tracks.

Frost began spreading throughout the store. Even as it did, Lelouch offered a glance towards the locked register… then thought better of it. "Not gonna steal anything?" The doll asked her, "You're destroying this whole store to hide a little bit of evidence, and you're not even going to bother robbing it first?"

"I thought about it," Lelouch replied with a calmness she _did not have_ at the moment. "But it's empty, and this is more important." When frost covered every inch of the building, only then did Lelouch enact her plan. Ice exploded out from beneath the floor as the pipe below was burst wide open. The sprinkler system above her snapped and tore, unleashing more ice.

Then, Lelouch walked to the door and pressed her frosted fingertips against the lock. She swiped them down – swipe… swipe again… a third try, and the door clicked open. The doll was staring at her even as she fled the scene. And moments later, the ice quickly melted as high pressure water filled the small clothing store and destroyed everything inside.

It was a sloppy mess. Lelouch, in her shortsightedness, had risked death for _no reason_. She could have changed outfits back at the graveyard and that would have been fine. Now she had cameras to contend with – and oh god, how many cameras could there be? At least one in every store, easily more than that… even back in her time, she knew there were cameras everywhere.

How likely was it that someone else had seen her? What were the odds that someone holding a camera had watched her enter that store before fleeing the scene of the crime? Oh god, what if it was all over? She was hyperventilating, panting as she pressed her hands against the wall of an alleyway.

She needed to get a grip. She needed to _snap out of it_. If someone had caught her, or seen her, she'd be dead by now… right? That'd be the end of it. And the fact that she was still here meant that nobody had seen her.

… _Yet_. Nobody had seen her _yet_.

"You need to work on your getaways."

Lelouch nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun on her heel, keeping herself standing as she pressed one hand against a brick wall and stared at that damned, cursed doll. It sat on a trash can. Staring at her – _taunting_ her… "You _knew_ I was being watched!" She accused it, "You're… You're trying to get me killed…"

"You're being paranoid. Would I have brought you back to life and pointed you to a clothing store with just the one camera in it if I _knew_ that would get you killed? I'll admit, that's quite an unusual way to get rid of evidence – most **Kampfer** just use the tried and true method of burning the evidence. But I suppose flooding works, too."

"What the hell is the _point_ of all of this?!" Lelouch snapped, "Point me at something, and I can fight it. But every instruction I've gotten from you has been vague and empty. How is fighting other Kampfer supposed to save my world? And how am I supposed to know where other Kampfer are, or how to find them? I have no resources, I have no shelter, and I have no identification…"

"Oh, you're used to starting from nothing–"

"I have _never_ started from nothing! What do you take me for?" Lelouch hissed, "I… In retrospect, I have always been quite fortunate. I was born to royalty, I was saved by friends to my family, I was given an escape to a life of empty mediocrity and a means of achieving vengeance through a power _nobody_ knew existed, and I had access to an abundance of resources _every single step of the way_. This is like comparing night and day. I'm starting from absolutely _nothing_."

The doll almost seemed to _pout_. "I gave you something. I gave you that bracelet, and I gave you a second chance at life! I gave you everything you could possibly want."

"You gave me a weapon, and the ability to play with ice. I need funds if I'm going to travel the world, and failing that I need to find someone who knows how to travel the world without getting caught. I need a list of targets, so I know who my enemies and allies are. I need a picture, I need a name, I need _something_."

"…I can't give you most of that."

" _Why?!"_

"Because that would ruin the game, says I."

"…" Lelouch stared at the doll. Her expression was wide-eyed, her mouth opening and closing as words were almost formed and then aborted. She trembled in place, filled with shock and rage.

"I told you we would go hunting. Now that we have satisfied your desire to dress a little differently, we will hunt. But I never said it would be easy, so I say. Saving the world is not an easy affair." The doll shook its head, "And here I thought you were up to the task, says I."

Lelouch crumpled to her knees. Her hands fell to her sides. "The more I think about this," she said, "The more I realize how absurd this all is. I need…" She shut her eyes, "I need money. First, I need funding. No matter the day or age, money is one of the most powerful forces on the planet."

"I can't really help with that–"

"Shut up." Lelouch raised a hand, "Just… _shut up_. And let me think. I need…" She licked her lips. "Allies. I cannot do this alone. You don't count – you're useless."

"…Hey…"

"Not all Kampfer are my enemies. It is possible that I could encounter a Kampfer capable of assisting me in finding other Kampfer that are more dangerous. Allying with them can be done, but I still need funding to facilitate this. And I have _an_ ally. Unless she has formed another contract…" Lelouch's words dissolved into mumbles as she thought. She pressed her back against the alleyway wall and cradled her face with her hands.

She needed to find C.C.

If anyone was likely to know about Kampfers _and_ be exempt from the rule about knowing about Kampfers, it would be the immortal witch. C.C. would also know the best way to travel from country to country without being detected. It was just a question of finding her. But after who knows how many years, would that even be possible? How did C.C. even go about hiding herself anyway?

But that raised another troubling question. "There's something else I've been forgetting, and I should have asked the _moment_ I left that cemetery."

Lelouch stared at the doll. She fixed her eyes on it, as if to gauge it for any kind of reaction, any kind of tell. There was a sense of desperation in her tone as she spoke, and the question left her feeling hollow as it left her lips.

"How long have I been dead?"

The doll's cartoonish face _twisted_ into a smile.

-x-

" _Heeeellllo Pendragon! This is Gee-four-eighty-eight point nine here with another classic–"_

" _That's right Tom, and what a beaute that was – next up for our late night special, we'll be playing something special for all you Glinka fans out there."_

" _Righto, righto! And it's one of my favorites. Russlan and Ludmilla overture. Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you enjoy these next five minutes of heaven with us. And for all you folks burning the midnight oil, keep on trucking!"_

A black car's doors were wide open. Marks had been dug into the sidewalk and asphalt, and long, sweeping cuts lined the metal of the machine as it sat running in the dark. Its windshield was in thousands of pieces, utterly shattered and leaving behind countless little scratches on the dashboard. The steering wheel was bent and torn free, embedded in a nearby wall.

Dents lined one side of the vehicle; its rear tires slashed wide open as its front left tire continued spinning separately from the axle. The gas pedal had been slammed down and wedged in place. Fuel drenched the alley, filling it with the stink of prehistoric blood. The car rested on a tilt, its roof shredded with impromptu ventilation. One headlight was broken, the other remained on and bright as it illuminated a trail of crimson leading up the side of a building.

Drip.

There was silence. A total quiet, save for rhythmic dripping that left its only listener relishing. A woman dressed in green took a deep breath of the air around her. It stank of sweat and iron. A pile of meat swung back and forth, held up and dangling by its ankles. The woman stared at it, keeping her hands on her knees as she waited.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She stood and stretched, popping joints in her back as she hugged herself. She blushed and delighted in the cacophony of her own making, each drip and spatter fading into the noise of brass and drums and strings.

In one hand, she spun a knife around as if moving to compose a song of her own. She hummed along, her smile never wavering as the light in the meat's eyes faded to a pale, white, glassy color reminiscent of eggs in the pan. There was a hissing noise of static from a television in the room down the carpeted hallway, but the little details were a fickle thing best left unmentioned to her.

An open carton of milk had been discarded some time ago, with whatever was left of its contents dripping onto the floor behind her as she stared at the meat in front of her. Held in place by chains and hooks, it was a miracle that the thing's arm came free and fell to the alleyway below with an almost audible _thump_.

Her other hand, meanwhile, brought a separate knife to her lips. She caressed it, her long tongue slithering along its blunt side as crimson coated her lips, and she shook at the feeling. Her eyes rolled up, and as her attention deviated from the body that swung back and forth like a pendulum, she blinked.

When her eyes opened, there was no more dripping. Just silence, save for the ringing of midnight bells and the jangling of chains. A pout fell upon her as she sighed.

Her eyes, narrowed and serpentine, leered at the knife in her hand as she searched it for blood. With a flick of each wrist, her blades vanished, and from her back pocket she slipped out a little pink tablet – "Russlan… and… Ludmilla…" she purred, typing the phrase in and saving it for later. " _Overture…_ "

Her phone shone a bright, plain white, illuminating the room around her even as she worked. "Bum, bum-be-dum dumm…" she hummed along to the song, clicking her phone off as prerecorded applause echoed throughout the night. An ad for candy bars started playing, and in the dark of a broken-open apartment, the bright blue bracelet she wore began to glow.

A grin crossed her dark-skinned face. "Hey, hey~!" She sang, "Someone new's in town already~?" The woman giggled. "Oh, it's gonna be a _wonderful_ night~!"

The crescent moon, cast in long silhouettes of blackening clouds, seemed yellow to her as she stepped forwards and off the edge of the building. The air was light to her, and offered no resistance as she slowed to a crawl. She did not land so much as _walked_ to the bottom, walking past a car that was rapidly fading away.

-x-

End Eisritter Ch. 002


	3. Discovering

Aron Kozuki let his car come to a stop, its Float Engine's hum quieting as it descended to the asphalt. He stepped out and took a look around at a street corner covered in water that leaked under a shut, glass door. He slipped a radio out of his pocket and started speaking. "This is the chief; we're looking at a 10-13a, severe water damage to a local storefront."

Two men in uniform stood on either side of him. Aron gave each of them a glance. "Cordon off the area," he said, "I'll check the damage."

He walked to the door and checked the slit for a key card, running his knuckle along the side. It came back wet. The man frowned, running one hand through his red hair as he searched his pocket again. "Let's see…" he grumbled, fingers prodding and searching. His eyebrows rose, "There it is," and he pulled out a silver card.

It slid through, and the lock clicked open as the red light blinked green. He pushed the door open, the bell above his head ringing as his shoes splashed into a growing puddle of water. The man's face was stony and expressionless, fixed into careful observation of the scene in front of him.

Water continued dripping from a destroyed sprinkler system, turned off hours earlier by firemen who arrived before him. He was just here to look at the aftermath.

There was water damage everywhere. Clothes ruined, floors stained, the whole place was drenched. Lit by the noontime sun, Aron couldn't help but notice a door towards the back was slightly ajar. He approached it, kneeling a little lower to take a look at a bent and broken handle.

It looked like it had been pulled off the wood door with a significant amount of force. It was wet, like most of the building, so that wasn't much of a surprise – but it was _warped_. He could see indents on the inside of the handle, like someone had grabbed and _squeezed_ until their fingers would be shaped into it.

"…What the hell…?" He murmured, pulling the door out and looking in. It was a closet. Mostly dry, though a shelf had fallen. There was cleaning product on an otherwise dry floor, save for a puddle that formed from the open crack of the door.

So the door was open before the flooding happened. And the flooding happened from above _and_ below simultaneously. The handle was drenched with water… Curious, Aron ran his hand along the inside of it. He tried pressing his fingers between the indents.

His fingers were too big. So whoever grabbed this thing had smaller hands, thinner fingers, and an _absurd_ amount of physical strength. He checked the uppermost parts of the door. It was untouched by the sprinklers. The lowermost part of the door was mostly dry, save for where water had leaked in…

Why was the door handle wet, then? Condensation?

If condensation played into it, then the rest of the door would've been wet.

Aron's eyes narrowed.

So he wasn't looking at an accident. This was a break-in being _portrayed_ as an accident. But who could have damaged the sprinkler and water main to such an extent, and how?

He continued surveying the area, mentally reclassifying it as a crime scene. Then, he turned and stepped out of the building. Radio in hand, he began speaking again. "Chief Kozuki speaking – reclassify the situation to a 10-22, repeat, this is a 10-22, break-in at the corner of forty-fifth and Darwin."

Aron glanced over his shoulder as he stepped away. But who the hell, he wondered – who would want to rob a clothing store? The question plagued him as he crossed the street. Yellow tape was already being drawn between bright orange cones, and the morning traffic was starting to pick up.

Cars held aloft by Float Engines ran on their own AI, visiting person after person for their morning commute through the towering city of Pendragon. There was no noise, save for the sound of air splitting out of the way of the flying vehicles and the soft buzzing noise. Like swarms of humming birds, they flew on their own directed paths, never needing to stop as they traveled.

Some were covered in advertisements for a new soda the kids were drinking – Aron didn't care for it. The stuff was too sweet for his taste. He was more of a Crystal Lite kind of guy – and another advertisement for a play he didn't want to see flew by.

Owning a car these days felt less like a privilege and more like a chore, but as an officer of the law he hardly had much choice in the matter. At least he didn't have to deal with billboards on his doors screaming about something people didn't need for prices they'd never pay.

His wandering was hardly aimless as it took him down a block to a local pawn shop. The ring of the bell as he pushed open the door and entered was a high, electronic chime. Older models of phones and other devices lined the walls, and the man behind the counter had a gnarled appearance of surgical scars. His left eye was mechanical and shone a bright green as he stared at Aron.

"Business?" The man asked Aron.

"Just gotta use the restroom," Aron waved the man off. "Anything new?"

"Some fat bastard sold me a wedding ring and two phones that probably didn't belong to him."

"And you took them?" Aron clicked his tongue, "I oughtta write you up."

"Sure, sure," the man shrugged.

Aron stepped around the back, slid into a unisex bathroom, and locked the door behind him.

…There was something bothering him about this whole situation. That was twice now that two locations had a mysteriously large amount of water. The graveyard was first, then the clothing store. The latter was too far away, and it had a clear source of the water, but what caused the pipes to explode? They weren't pierced from the _outside_ , but instead looked like something had built up from within.

Maybe some kind of powdered chemical had been slipped into the piping? It could impact the water, have a reaction, crystalize… but no, there'd be evidence of that. It looked like water had just _appeared_ in the graveyard.

…But it wasn't _always_ water, was it?

Aron frowned.

Ice damage? It was September, and it was cold enough for there to be _some_ frost, but that seemed unusual. And yet, ice buildup _could_ cause pipes to burst. So something had caused the water to freeze, or someone had dropped an ice box into an empty crypt before doing it again in a clothing store…? No, that… that didn't sound right either.

He was missing something here.

Aron zipped up. As he was washing his hands, he heard another chime. Drying his paws on his shirt, the man stepped out and looked to see who was approaching the fellow behind the counter – _Oh_. Oh _wow_.

Immediately, Aron forced his gaze _up_ to look at the face of the woman who'd stepped in. Average height, apparently average waist, _not so average appearance_ – he shook his head. She looked young enough to be his _daughter_ , but holy hells her proportions were _insane_.

He knew surgery had made leaps and bounds, but this was ridiculous!

"The sign outside says you pay for recyclables?" The woman asked the man at the counter.

"Uh… Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do," he nodded. "You got… uh…" He leaned forward, partly to get a better look at her cleavage and partly to see what she was carrying. Aron followed his eyes, then blinked at the sight of the trash bag she was carrying with her. Amazing the things one fails to notice when they're focused on… _other_ details. "Huh," the man exhaled, "Yeah, lemme get that weighed for you."

"Thanks." The woman nodded, then dismissed him as she took a step back and just started staring at the devices on the walls. Aron wondered if she even knew what half of these things were – hell, there was one pink model on the shelf nearest to the door that was out of style _ten years ago_. This girl probably had something more advanced than it while she was in middle school, never mind now.

Aron started walking out of the store, yet as he did the woman looked up. It was chance eye contact – her eyes were a striking shade of purple. They widened at the sight of him.

"…Kozuki…?" She breathed.

Aron coughed, "That's my name." He frowned, "And that's Chief Kozuki to you, civilian." He'd have tipped his hat if he hadn't left it in the car. His straight, bright red hair made him feel too distinctive everywhere he went.

Oh wait, he blinked. She seemed a little stiff.

"Ma'am? Are you alright, ma'am?"

-x-

Lelouch stood with an expression halfway to a smile plastered on her face as she began screaming and cursing internally. This was a relative of Kallen Kozuki. _Kallen Kozuki had children_. One of her children was the _chief of police_ and he was _right here_ in front of her.

She took a breath through her nose, followed through on her smile, and put on a happy face. "You're heavier in person."

…

 _Why did she just say that? That was the worst thing she could possibly have said oh god what the hell no, no, no–!_

Chief Kozuki looked like someone had just punched him in the chest. "W-What?" He asked, "No I am _not_. Charles!" He looked behind the register, "I'm still thin, aren't I?"

The man with the glowing eye glanced back, then stared forward at the scale. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

His hands balled into fists, "That's not an answer! Am I fat or not? Which is it, you son of a bitch?!"

Charles sighed, put a hand in one pocket, and scratched the back of his head with his opposite hand. He was balding, Lelouch noticed. "I mean, those extra taco rolls haven't been helping much."

The chief of police seemed at a loss for words as he started turning purple. "I… I'll have you know, those things are only a hundred and fifty calories a pop, and I exercise _every single day_ –"

"Walking to your car doesn't count as exercise," Charles cut in, "And who says you stop at one?"

"I say it!"

"I don't believe you."

"Okay," Charles turned to address Lelouch. "Your total is a hundred dollars and fifteen cents – will that be credit or debit?"

"Cash, actually." Lelouch said.

"Cash, right…" Charles paused, "Wait, what, really?" He seemed baffled at the idea, "Uh… alright, then. Let's see," he started going through drawers.

Lelouch watched Charles with a befuddled expression. "Is everything alright?"

"It's fine, it's fine," he drawled. "Just didn't think there were any of you who didn't use cards and chips these days."

A cold sweat began gathering at Lelouch's back, "I try not to bother with those. Too much effort."

"Too hard to swipe a card through a slot?" Charles asked, sounding even _more_ confused.

Lelouch glanced to her side, seeing Chief Kozuki's eyes narrow. "Why should I put a card in a machine when I can have someone else _give me_ something physical?"

"…Like a receipt?"

"Receipts don't have pretty pictures on them!" Lelouch chirped. If all else fails, play stupid and _maybe_ they'll buy it. She knew how the aristocratic acted, and she knew how to play the part of someone with too much arrogance and too little sense.

Between that and being forced to cross dress by Millie, the act of flipping some of her hair over her shoulder was _almost_ natural. It still felt wrong and awkward to lean back, drawing more attention to what she _knew_ were her outstanding assets. But it seemed to work as Charles stood up from behind the counter.

"Alright," he said, "Here you go, then." He slid the bills, change, and receipt across the counter. "See you around."

Lelouch didn't look a gift horse in the mouth, accepting the cash and walking out at a brusque, somewhat abrupt pace. She didn't bother saying goodbye.

-x-

"…That was weird." Aron breathed. "Everything _about that_ was weird. You'd think a girl who's been under the knife as many times as her would know–"

"She wasn't."

"Eh?"

Aron eyed Charles, and Charles continued staring out the door of his pawn shop as he eyed the young woman's ass. "Goddamn, look at her walk…" He let out a low whistle, "Those cheeks ain't fake. The tits're real too."

"You mean…?"

"She's got one _hell_ of a future ahead of her."

Aron nodded, agreeing with his friend as he continued staring after the woman. Even when she rounded the corner… "Shame she's not too bright."

"Meh."

Aron scoffed, "Pig."

"You're one to talk!"

And the argument resumed…

-x-

Lelouch took deep, calming breaths as she avoided the stares of occasional pedestrians. She knew Pendragon like the back of her hand, and even so… it was irrelevant. Flying cars, no more cash, even the most outdated technology in this place felt like it was _leagues_ ahead of anything she knew what to deal with.

That man back there – Charles – had a prosthetic _eye_. Those weren't on the market back in her time, but now they were apparently common enough that she could see advertisements for them on the sides of buildings and cars. It was surreal, watching faces peel to reveal cybernetic restructuring of bone and tissue, a number sitting right next to it to denote price… and then the advertisement would change, and suddenly there'd be something for a new soda, or a new film.

And the _movies_ were ridiculous. Trailers that played on giant screens formerly occupied by the faces of Emperors passed looked too _real_ to be faked. Where did they get the funding and materials for those kinds of effects? Were those _real_ Knightmare Frames in that trailer playing on the corner?

Everyone had some kind of machine in their hands. An entire lane had been built next to the sidewalk for them, and as some stared at the screens they held, others looked ahead and moved images only they could see. In her excitement at the changes in the world around her, it was understandable when she bumped into someone.

"Watch where you're goin', lady!"

"Sorry," Lelouch mumbled an apology, her eyes wide at the sight of a man with patchwork skin and facial features. He scoffed and moved past her, muscles bulging beneath a thin tank top. Her heart thrummed at the sight, and she shook her head to clear her mind. Where was she going…?

…Right. She needed funding.

If she was right, and she hoped she was, gambling was still legal in Pendragon. To be fair, though… even if it wasn't, she could probably find _some_ pub willing to entertain her, if only for a little while.

Wide sidewalks and roads narrowed into an assortment of cleaned out alleys. Shops with doors built into balconies several floors above loomed as cars would stop midair and let passengers walk out. A transparently bizarre sense of euphoria struck her.

In a roundabout way, she'd helped to build this world… hadn't she?

…All the more reason to stop its destruction.

Overhanging balconies seemed to multiply as Lelouch sifted her way deeper and deeper into the city, until eventually the light of the sun was lost to the light of neon beneath countless overhanging structures. It was getting dirtier, and louder. Pumping, pounding music played from behind doors guarded by men who barely looked like men. Some boasted more blatant physical enhancements than others.

A dirty man in a green jacket eyed her from a street corner. "Hey, hey, baby! Nice legs!" He whistled, "What time do they open? Huh?!" He smelled like cheap alcohol and urine.

…Lelouch walked faster.

-x-

She vaguely remembered this place, much in the same way she vaguely remembered the other casinos she'd visited fifty years earlier. She remembered spending time here in her off hours while she was the Emperor of Britannia, but it had never been so… what was the word she was looking for? Gritty? There was more rust along the foundation, but the paint job for most of the building had been touched up on over and over again.

Lelouch could see how it chipped and frayed in some places. Signposts that once resembled an animal had been rearranged to boast quotation bubbles. Neon had been strapped onto the outside, renovations had expanded the structure from where it once stood, and the moment Lelouch stepped foot in the entryway, she saw the whole place had been gutted.

The first floor was for dancing, but she could hear the tantalizing sounds of slot machines only a floor above. An aching sensation ran up her wrist, and Lelouch felt herself start slowing down. She was taking deeper breaths. She felt weak… Lelouch shut her eyes, opened them, and dizziness began afflicting her.

She found a seat and fell into it, rubbing at her temples as the pounding of the music continued its rhythmic beat. Wubs and whirs twisting into a technological descent, it all just felt like noise to her. She eyed her wristband, the thing that denoted her as being a **Kampfer** … and blinked. Her skin looked almost _transparent_ just then.

Another blink, and she thought she could see bone.

Lelouch took another deep breath and shook her head, looking around to see if anyone noticed. But… nobody was looking at her. She wasn't even sitting in a corner, and something in her demeanor had others looking away or paying attention to one of the many dancers on the floor. She was barely another face in the crowd.

"You look afraid." Lelouch almost jumped out of her skin at the voice. She turned her head and glared – there, sitting with its back up against the armrest, the emperor penguin doll stared at her with an almost coy expression. "What's the matter? Afraid? Your mortality is creeping up on you, says I. Is that right?"

"What _is_ this?" Lelouch glared at the doll. "I… I feel different. I'm quicker to act, slower to think of the consequences… and now _this_." She held up her hand, "I haven't slept a minute since we broke out of that place, and now…"

"A **Kampfer** is fueled by constant stimulation. When that fuel runs dry, the **Kampfer** will change back." The doll seemed to shrug, "You're running low on stimulation. And so…"

"…I was _dead_. So if I don't do something to stimulate myself–" Lelouch grimaced, "And what do you mean by _stimulate?"_

"Anything that gets those chemicals pumping~! Adrenaline, endorphins, really most things relating to excitement… But this won't be a problem for you, right? Gambling's an inherently exciting activity, I say, and – _my_ you're looking pale!"

"…I've never gambled for fun." Lelouch stared ahead. She felt cold.

Gambling had always been a means of passing the time. It was a hobby, if barely that, and it was something she did just for the sake of having something to _do_. Gambling was boring for her. The most entertainment she derived from it was beating amateurs and novices in games of chess for a tidy profit, and she was almost certain that it never _excited_ her.

"Hah… haha…" A nervous smile broke out across Lelouch's face. So this was it, then? She was being forced to become excited or else she'd _die?_ Of all the places for her to have this kind of crisis… sure, at least it was at a place where she could _dance_ , and that'd probably count as stimulation. But she didn't know any of the moves these people were making and doing, she didn't understand what it meant to move your arms up and down, she didn't know how to dance like the crowd around her.

…She was a person who was completely out of her time and element.

Her eyes narrowed as her bracelet pulsed in warning once more.

What was fun for her? What _excited_ her?

Realization hit her like a train, and Lelouch felt something fit into place. She smiled and started walking straight to the center of the dance floor.

Had anyone noticed that she just walked right in without paying a dime? Did anyone see her as anything except a piece of meat? It was fine if they hadn't – this, _all_ of this – it was just another mask, no different than Zero, no different than any stage or play she'd participated in before.

There had to be a reason that she was picked to be revived, some talent that made her perfect for the situation at hand, and no matter how she thought about it… there really was one thing she was particularly good at, and it certainly didn't hurt that she enjoyed it.

Lelouch zeroed in on a girl dancing alone, and with great and excessive flair, offered her hand.

So what if she didn't know anything of this modern world? If she lacked understanding, nothing stopped her from playing ignorant to her advantage. And what she did know… there was _no reason_ it couldn't still apply.

The other girl looked confused at Lelouch's offer, but before she could so much as _ask_ , Lelouch had already taken her. She stepped back, and prompted the other girl to step with her.

She watched as others moved, the way their legs shifted back, the way their arms lifted and fell, and still holding the hand of her impromptu dance partner, Lelouch made due.

-x-

A bright blue bracelet blinked. Hazel eyes looked up to stare at the front of a cheap club and casino. A grin crossed a dark-skinned face, and its owner stepped forward. Her hair, a dull silver that wasn't quite grey, bounced as she approached. Music played in one of her ears as she approached the door. "Hello~!" She sang to the woman at the front desk. "Security's light this time of day, huh~?" She smiled.

The woman behind the counter looked at her and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if there was a problem with that. Instead of voicing it, the woman just kept chewing her gum. She blew a bubble, let it pop, and stared, "You here to dance or gamble?"

"Hmm…" The girl with almost grey hair let an easy smile cross her face, "I think…" Her head tilted, and she stared into a dark room full of flashing lights, watching as two dancers took up the center of the floor with rapid movements.

…Was that neo-classical in a rinky-dink place like this? Who _moved_ like that anymore? "…I'll dance." She smiled.

-x-

Step, step, one two – the dance moves were all the same, but just a little faster to keep up with the beat. With a partner, it ought to have been more difficult… but Lelouch made sure to pick a routine that wasn't _too_ difficult for someone else to follow, and this girl was doing a good enough job keeping pace.

It seemed she was having fun – that was perfect. Lelouch eyed the crowd, dancers slowing down as they turned their attentions towards her and her dance partner. Her heartbeat quickened. This feeling of being watched, this sensation of being the center of attention as everyone watched her and spoke about her in hushed breaths… she knew it might be a risk to draw eyes towards her – on some level it had to be – and yet…

…her bracelet hadn't stopped blinking, though the ache had long faded. She _felt_ stimulated. Was she doing something wrong?

Lelouch looked up and offered a smile to the girl standing across from her, just in time to watch as one of the overhanging lights began to swing _down_. Her eyes went wide, and she stepped forward to push the girl out of the way. They fell to the floor, equipment narrowly missing them as it swung in a pendulum's arc.

"Are you alright?" Lelouch looked over the girl, checking for injuries.

"I… I think I'm alright–" The girl's eyes widened, "Look out!"

Another light fixture fell, and Lelouch's eyes went wide as she stood and pulled the girl out of the way once more. Now, the crowd was starting to panic. Lelouch swung her gaze back and forth in search of an attacker, her heart pumping louder and louder until she could barely hear.

There was the sound of something flying through the air, and one of the speakers hanging from a wall fell off. This time, there was no saving one of the people standing beneath it. Though he jumped, the speaker fell upon him – he screamed as his legs were crushed. And from there, the screaming began.

Something _thunked_ into a wall, cold steel sinking into a support beam. Lelouch stared at the offending object wide-eyed as the blinking in her bracelet quickened its pace.

Lelouch shuddered. This was the sensation of the other shoe suddenly and abruptly dropping. She knew it would eventually happen that she'd end up having to deal with an enemy **Kampfer** , but she didn't realize it would happen this _soon_. Lelouch stepped away from the girl feeling relatively confident that she was safe, and immediately made a bee-line for the fire alarm. Frost covered her palm as she shattered the glass and pulled down.

The loud ringing that filled the building was enough to turn a panic into a wild and desperate bid for escape as people frantically moved towards the nearest exits. Lelouch, meanwhile, went against the crowd and moved deeper into the building in search of cover and a better position.

Another knife flew into the crowd, impacting the ground as something else fell from the ceiling. But Lelouch could do nothing to help these people – not yet. Not until the other crowd came out from upstairs – gamblers in varying states of dress filtered out in lines that took up the hallway.

Lelouch hid herself in a corner in the wall, watching as people passed her by and looking over their heads into the rest of the crowd for someone who didn't belong. Her bracelet continued blinking even as the crowd began to thin.

An opening appeared, and Lelouch exploited it as she stepped out and fled deeper into the casino. She looked up, keeping an eye out for the undoubtedly ridiculous number of cameras, and she was quick to round a corner and find her way to a bathroom stall.

The blinking of her bracelet slowed… then slowed further… and then the pace quickened once more. _It was a radar and the enemy_ _ **Kampfer**_ _was approaching_.

Lelouch's eyes widened as a knife flew through the door to the bathroom, barely missing her as she threw a spike of ice straight through. There was a gasp on the other side, and the sound of footsteps backing away.

The sound of giggling sent chills down Lelouch's spine.

"Ohohoho~ A Zauber! Those are always so, so, _so_ fun~! And you use ice? Hey, hey~ Are you one of those Zaubers that uses magic _more_ or _less_ than your other weapons? Wait, no!" She gasped, "Don't tell me!"

There was the sound of something cutting through the air as the door fell to pieces. Lelouch eyed the girl on the opposite side nervously, waiting for her to attack once more.

Her grin was wide and savage. "I wanna find out on my own terms!"

-x-

Red and blue flashing lights filled the streets outside the casino. Aron Kozuki stepped out of his car and stared ahead at a scene that better belonged in a nightmare. Long, wide cuts had been drawn along the ground. People lay dead and dying while others continued fleeing from the scene. Blood spattered the road, reflecting neon lights as corpses stared up without blinking.

He grasped his radio and made a call.

-x-

End Eisritter Ch. 003


	4. Sandbagging

Lelouch's first experience fighting an enemy Kampfer threatened to leave her reeling, and she wasn't even four minutes in. Mere seconds after the other Kampfer announced her intent, she was already moving towards Lelouch at speeds unseen and unheard of.

Idly, she realized that this Kampfer was _easily_ faster than Suzaku. And before the thought could be completed, the Kampfer was more than halfway within arm's reach of her.

Lelouch let her arms fall to her sides, kept her gaze even with the enemy Kampfer's, and felt the pipes throughout the bathroom rupture as they were suddenly filled with ice. A clear wall formed between them, and the other Kampfer had retreated.

Inches away from Lelouch's face, a throwing knife rested in a line of frost reaching into the barrier and holding it in place.

"…More, then." The Kampfer hummed on the other side of the ice. At first, she seemed disappointed at the idea as she swayed from side to side and put a finger to her lips. "Oh well. A fight's a fight!" Her grin returned, wide and wild.

"You can't very well fight me from behind a wall." Lelouch spoke, "So what's your plan here?"

The Kampfer nodded. "That's true! I am a bit limited, buuut~ There's more than one way to skin a cat." The sound of footfalls echoed throughout the hallway behind the Kampfer, "No witnesses can mean a _lot_ of things, you know."

Lelouch's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't try it."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Those who kill should be ready to die… and you don't sound like you're prepared for anything. In fact, I bet you don't even know who I am."

"You're a _Kampfer_." The young woman sighed in reply, "Talking about names like they _matter_ – you have no idea, do you?" she chuckled, " _God_ you're green."

Lelouch opened her mouth to reply, but stopped herself. That knife… was it _glowing?_ Its mass abruptly vanished, and in the instant there was a gap in the ice it expanded. Blades of wind exploded out, shredding the barrier of ice to pieces. Shrapnel shards and blades of air tore towards her.

She ducked to the side, a bathroom stall taking the brunt of the explosion's force. But nevertheless, she felt herself being pushed through a wall. Lelouch collapsed on the other side of it, groaning in pain. "That…" she breathed, "That hurt."

"I should hope so!" cackled the Kampfer, "And anyway… if you're going to be such a _buzzkill_ about it… my name's Elma! And I'm gonna go kill a few useless interlopers. Ta~!"

Lelouch barely had time to get back on her feet before Elma had fled from the room.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself against a wall. So, she was fighting a Kampfer who primarily used throwing daggers as a weapon. This same Kampfer had wind and air control – it wasn't clear how much control Elma had over wind, or to what extent, but her daggers could be made of air… which spoke of density manipulation.

The daggers _could_ be stopped with ice. So they likely relied on significant force when thrown in order to actually do any damage. In conclusion, Elma was strong, fast, and had a versatile ability.

But… she either didn't know how to use it properly, or she'd never thought of some new way to abuse it. Elma ought to have had no problem killing Lelouch at that moment, she understood. After all, sucking the air out of a room would suffocate any target. So why the focus on the knives?

Either she was a sadist, which Lelouch wasn't about to take off the table… or there was a practical reason for it. Whatever the case, she needed a plan, and she needed to act _soon_.

Lelouch eyed her bracelet and placed a hand over it. For better or worse, she wasn't going to win this fight unless she used her weapon… and that meant drawing suspicion to her from the local law enforcement.

A sardonic smile crossed her face, and she couldn't help but let out a chuckle. The more things change, the more they stay the same… and it wasn't like she was _unused_ to running from the law.

She gripped her bracelet, and let violet light take her form.

-x-

Aron Kozuki gripped his gun with either hand, his eyes surveying damage to the club. The pounding of electronic music resonated throughout each room, causing the walls to vibrate as he stepped past broken glass and observed scars drawn and cratered along the walls.

There was an abrupt cracking noise. Aron spun on his feet, pointing his gun back the way he came. Overhead lights had gone dark. With another snap, the next set of lights blackened, and then the next – a trail of darkness slowly crawled its way towards Aron.

With one more snap, the lights above his head and behind him flickered and died.

Footsteps echoed throughout the hall. With barely a thought, he pressed the side of his gun. An LED light blinked on, washing the hallway in brightness and casting away shadows.

The sound of footsteps echoed around a corner.

Aron did not dry swallow. Though nervous, he continued forward and walked back the way he came. His gun pointed ahead, his aim straight and true – _someone_ was here, and he was willing to bet just about anything that he was being toyed with.

"This is the police." His voice was stern. He did not tremble, he did not quake. "Come out with your hands up." Aron's hands were stiff as boards, keeping their grasp of his firearm.

As footsteps began running towards him from behind, he spun to meet the gaze of a terrified patron – she was a young woman with dark skin and grey hair. "Oh, officer, please help~!" She cried, "Some big scary man showed up and started stabbing people! It was _sooo_ scary~!"

An easy smile settled onto Aron's face, "Don't worry, everything's fine. The KM Units are on their way, and I can have you outside before you know it…" But still, he didn't lower his gun. "But first, I'm going to have to ask you to come quietly."

"…Huh?"

"Your feet are covered in blood, your hands have calluses that indicate you work _very_ frequently, and you're just the right height to drag a knife along these walls." Aron's gun clicked, "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

The girl's expression faded from confusion to annoyance. "…Ah, I see. So that's how it's going to be." She sighed, her arm moved, and suddenly Aron's light vanished with a loud _snap_.

He fired. Once, twice – but the bullets only struck the other side of the hallway. The grey-haired girl was gone.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he forced himself to tumble forward. He could hear as a knife sang through the air behind him and cut through the wall. Whoever this girl was, she'd enhanced at least some parts of her body with machinery…

He fired again. This time, his bullet hit something – he saw a flash of sparks as it was knocked out of the air by a swinging blade. That indicated significantly enhanced reflexes and some high-tier cybernetic augmentations.

Aron started backing up as he fired once more into the dark. Each pull of the trigger filled the hallway with bright, white light for only an instant before darkness returned. It was cramped and narrow, forcing Aron to feel his way backwards with his legs and feet as he fumbled about and fired once more.

The girl prowled towards him, casually swinging her arm back and forth to knock one bullet out of the air after another. As Aron made his way to the hallway's intersection, he began fleeing into the light.

A knife flew over his shoulder. He tumbled and rolled into a firing position, shooting behind him once more. Now that he could actually _see_ her, this would be easier… or at least he _thought_ it'd be easier. And yet, with each pull of the trigger, a sinking feeling began forming in his stomach.

This girl wasn't stalling in her movements, and certainly wasn't acting exhausted. Now that he got a good look at her, he couldn't see any surgical scars – so her skin was probably artificial, too. He wasn't just fighting some average cyborg that'd lost its mind – he was fighting someone who had some _high tier equipment_.

…This was beyond his abilities to deal with. But still, he fought.

"Honestly," the girl sighed, deflecting another bullet. "Isn't all this a little much? KM-Units? Really?" With a motion of her hand, she sliced an incoming bullet in half. Casually, she twirled the knife in her hand. "Those are for heavy duty threats, aren't they~? Do I really constitute that…? I don't know if I should be honored or bothered~"

Another bullet flew towards her. This one, she stopped in place with her knife – letting it dent against the flat of the blade and fall to the floor. "We can keep doing this all day, or you can lie down and _take it_." She breathed, "Your choice, big boy~"

Aron's gun clicked empty. He swore, turning and running the opposite direction.

She just sighed and shook her head. They always ran in the end, didn't they…? That was fine, though. She brought her hand up, holding her knife as she zeroed in on her target. He wouldn't have to worry about another damn thing when she was through with him…

Her wrist flicked, and the knife cut through the air. Guided by her power, it quickly found its way into Aron's shoulder. He gasped in agony, falling forward for a moment before catching himself and continuing his run around the next corner.

Aron had already pulled the knife free, and certainly wasn't looking behind him to see as it dissolved into thin air. A trail of blood dripped down his back, filling the hallway with a scent of iron.

With one hand, he'd pulled his radio out and was already calling for assistance. "Hostile cyborg on-site – advanced prosthesis, class A _at least_ , where the _hell_ are the KM-Units?" He snapped.

A crash of sound exploded throughout the halls as he was pursued. No bullets, no extra ammunition – he was outgunned, and he was cornered. If he didn't receive medical treatment, he wouldn't be surprised if that knife wound got to him.

The sad thing was that this probably wasn't the worst situation he'd ever been involved in. It was bad, sure, but at least he'd gone in _armed_ this time.

He leapt over a table and hid behind a bar. It was covered in broken glass and alcohol, spattering and staining the floor and wood with multi-colored fluids and a myriad of scents. But alcohol was a good thing in a situation like this. Keeping his back to a reflective bit of glass, he got started at dressing his injury.

"Oh mister officer~? Where _are_ you hiding~?" cooed the girl as she stepped into the room. One foot in front of the other, she resembled a panther as she hunted for her prey. Her eyes were narrow, a cool smile slipping its way onto her face.

As she walked, she found herself stopping near one of the large sound systems in the corner. Speakers reached the ceiling, the pounding of techno drums continuing to echo and resonate… "Let's turn that down and switch to something with more charm…" Her fingers ran across the dials, "Hmm… how about… oh, that's a cute one."

…Something clicked in the machine.

The girl turned her back to it and began walking towards the blood stained trail. "Hear it? Listen closely. Camille Saint-Saens… The _Danse Macabre_. I hear they use it in all those movies these days…" Her eyes trailed across the floor as she continued her even pace.

"So you're a fan of history?" She heard the voice loud and clear from behind the bar, and the grin on her face sharpened all the more. "Or at least, of older music."

"Of course! They don't make it like they used to. And, sure, it's a little _loud_ for this, but that's fine. It's why I started it around the two and a half minute… mark…" She paused and stared.

Aron's jacket rested behind the bar. His radio rested next to the jacket, plugged into the wall. But the man was nowhere in sight.

 _K'pop_

Elma's head popped up, her eyes wide as she spun and searched for the sound. Aron watched her, a bottle of vodka in one hand. Stuffed into the bottle was a torn off sleeve, lit aflame. In his other hand, he held a microphone from the DJ's stage.

"You tuned the microphone to your radio's frequency – Oh, I _really_ don't like you." The Kampfer sighed as Aron threw the bottle at her. "I appreciate the effort, but I can deflect _bullets_." She threw a knife at the Molotov cocktail. The glass shattered, and though burning alcohol fell to the floor, it was nowhere near her. "What did _that_ accomplish?"

Aron smirked. "It distracted you."

Elma tilted her head in confusion. Then, she smelled something. Something _burning_ … behind her…?! She turned her head and saw a plume of smoke exit the torn up jacket she'd seen only moments before. The outlet under the bar – Aron had clipped a cable and jury rigged a _bomb?!_

"Just a little something from my mother's days as a revolutionary," Aron said. "I couldn't help but pick up a detail or two from her stories." The radio clicked and whined, and all the alcohol behind the bar ignited and exploded. The classical music cut off as the sound systems failed across the board.

Elma was thrown away from the blast. Glass cut across her skin as Aron turned and fled the scene. She swore and stood. "That _bastard_." She hissed, knives appearing in her hands. "I'll _kill him_."

She started charging towards where the police officer had fled the scene, but a hand wrapped in black armor caught her wrist. "You'll be doing no such thing."

Elma's eyes widened. "A KM-Unit?!" She gasped, "Or… _no_. You… You bloody _Kampfer_ …!"

Lelouch met her gaze through the lens of a miniaturized Knightmare Suit with an impassionate, collected expression. "You lose, Elma."

Gone was the outfit that Lelouch had worn on her way to the club. In its place, a suit of armor wrested on her form. Ergonomically designed, sleek in shape and form, no part of it was left unarmored or uncovered. Her breasts pressed uncomfortably against her chest, but her body was perfectly protected in the suit.

A golden trim lined either arm. Wheels rested at the heels of either foot, pressing into the floor as Lelouch leveraged her weight against Elma. Up close like this, it was plain to see that Lelouch was taller than the other Kampfer by almost a foot.

Bright golden shoulder plates glinted in the light of the fires lit by Aron, and as Elma summoned up wind to tear through the metal… Lelouch was already pulling her up. Effortlessly, Lelouch had lifted Elma into the air and kicked her in the side with flexibility she never realized she had.

Only then did Lelouch let go of her, letting the other Kampfer fly through the air and tumble into a wall. Elma spat blood and stood on shaky feet, her eyes wide, alert, and animalistic. "You… To think you'd have such a _busted_ weapon…"

Gold and black dominated her vision, cast and surrounded in flame. Yet with a wave of Lelouch's arm, the sprinklers finally exploded as water turned to ice and snuffed out the light. All that remained in that dark was the occasional glint of Lelouch's armor.

Its visor, a dark purple, _glowed_ and leered at her. "Elma." Lelouch spoke, taking full advantage of her body's new voice and the synthesizer provided by the suit summoned through her power. "How many innocent people have you killed? Five? Ten? And for what…" With a grand gesture, Lelouch spread her arms and drew Elma's attention to the rest of the building. "This? For more destruction? _You disgust me_."

Elma held a baffled look, staring at Lelouch as if she resembled some strange, twisted animal that had descended from the heavens. She made to speak, then chortled, and _laughed_. She held her sides and shook her head as she helplessly guffawed. "You… pfft– hahahaha~! Haha~! Oh, ohoho~ You really think that high-mindedly? You're _serious?"_

She stood and twirled her knives once more. "We are _Kampfer_. We live, and breathe, to fight and die. You're gonna talk to me like, what, you're _more_ than that? Piss off." Elma scoffed, "It's all about the red team and the blue team. Nobody stands for anything, nobody has a reason. You fight, or you die. And if you die, then _nothing_ you did matters anyway! Nobody's gonna remember us. The good _or_ the bad."

Elma glared at Lelouch, "Why have a reason? That'd mean pretending to be all nice and cheery~" The smile on her face was almost plastic in how fake it looked, and how quickly it melted into a snarl. "Just cut to the point, skip everything in between, and be _honest_ about it. It's the same for all you reds, isn't it?"

Casually, Lelouch held up her wrist. "Actually… it isn't." There, resting on the outermost layer of the armor, her black band shone violet. "You are fighting the wrong opponent – I have come," Lelouch swept out her arm, "To _end_ the battle between the Red and Blue Kampfer!"

Grandiose speeches, flash and substance, shock and awe – to Lelouch, the world was but an amazing stage for her to perform upon. What difference was there between her earliest performances as Zero and this display before her now? The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Yet as Elma steeled herself, Lelouch found her only regret was that she didn't know this woman enough to get through to her. "So there's another side to all of this…?" Elma spoke, "In that case… that just means there's another team I get to help cut down!" She charged, wind licking at her ankles as she walked and soared through the air towards Lelouch.

Lelouch held up an arm, forcing Elma to kick off of it as she threw a pair of knives at the armored Kampfer. Lelouch's wheels spun – _landspinners_ – easily catching tile and pulling her away from the blades that tore into the floor in front of her and exploded into wind.

Shattered tile and ice fell around her as she spun and kicked at Elma. Yet Elma was quick to dodge – "You have such an amazing toy~!" She crooned, "But you're _new_ at it! Painfully, awkwardly new! Am I your first Kampfer?!" She snapped, blades of wind exploding before they even left her hands.

They became as invisible knives, tearing through the darkness in desperate bids to dig into Lelouch's armor and force her back. Yet even as they struck and scratched deeply, Lelouch let loose cables and claws – _slash harkens_ – that dug into the ceiling and drew her up.

Elma, dancing on the air, could only feel her eyes widen as Lelouch's golden knee flew up and struck her in the gut. She gasped, the wind knocked free from her. But still, she fought. She forced herself to spin in the air, to swing at Lelouch with yet another knife formed from thin air.

Yet Lelouch's hand came down and struck the blade out of her hand. Her wrist was shattered as she was forced to fall, her back impacting the floor and cratering it. She rolled and tumbled. Lelouch landed on two feet and began stepping towards Elma. "You keep forcing my hand," Lelouch stated aloud, "You resemble _exactly_ the sort of person I've sworn to fight, but you're _desperate_. There _is_ a reason behind your actions."

"Oh _shut up_." Elma snapped, wind coalescing at her fingertips as she flung out her hands and forced Lelouch back a step. She forced herself back on her feet, blood trailing from the many injuries that decorated her damaged body. "You think you know _everything_ –"

"I don't know." Lelouch interrupted her. "I know _painfully_ little of this situation. And nobody around me seems willing to inform me – but if you know as much as you imply you do, then explain. _Why_ are we fighting? Why fight for your side in all of this? Just because you're blue? Just because you're told to? Or perhaps… the reason is more base than that."

"…" Elma spoke no words as wind swirled around her arms, as knives formed in her hands and vortexes began spiraling past the blades. Swords of wind cut into the floor, as if becoming _denser_. "You really don't know?" She asked with eerie calm. "You have _no idea_ at all?"

"I don't."

"…Kampfers require stimulation," Elma lifted the blades. "Dancing is one option. But considering we're in a war, the other is even easier." Something manic glinted in her eyes, "There's a romance to be found in killing to survive, and a freedom to be found in never being remembered. A purpose, an end, a means… it's all there."

Lelouch sighed as she let ice surround her form in a thin layer – just thick enough to deflect the worst of Elma's attack… but Elma never struck at her. Instead, the swords impacted the ground and exploded into wind. Dust and debris tore towards Lelouch. She brought up an arm, instinctively shielding herself from the attack.

By the end of it, a massive hole stretched across the floor and led beneath the city. "…Really? The sewers?" Lelouch exhaled, "So _that's_ how it's gonna be."

-x-

Elma panted as she fled, blood trickling from her body with every other step. How humiliating, how discouraging… her first fight of the night and she was beaten by someone who didn't know up from down or left from right… She gritted her teeth in frustration, one hand steadily scrolling through a long list of options.

She needed something to calm herself down. Maybe something from the orchestra? Giuseppe Tartini's work always did a fine job calming her nerves.

The devil's fiddle played and echoed throughout the passage. Grime and mold clung to brickwork that had been laid at least a century before. Modern lights hung from a ceiling, and the hum of her phone kept her comforted as she continued her long walk. Her injuries would heal, as they always did.

It would take a day, maybe two.

Kampfers never went down easily.

Her feet carried her down the passage until she reached an opening. Sludge poured out and fell hundreds of feet into water far, far below. This would make for a fine jump off point…

Metal clanged behind her. Elma clenched her fists… and the music stopped as her phone shattered in her grip. "…Oh _darn_." She looked over her shoulder to see Lelouch standing there in gold and black armor. "You followed me this far? That's some dedication."

The sun was setting. Or… was it rising? She'd destroyed her phone, so it wasn't like she could check the time.

"You killed several people today. And every time I've asked you, you dodged the question or danced around the issue. You keep saying you don't care because you'll be forgotten… but do you _want_ that to happen? Do you _want_ to disappear?"

Elma didn't look at Lelouch. Her gaze fixed on the sun. Its soft, orange glow cast its light across the bay. She shut her eyes. "No Kampfer does. But that won't matter in a few minutes."

Her bracelet was blinking. Bright blue flashes indicated her power was waning. Had she exhausted herself so much against one man and one Kampfer? It was shameful is what it was. A deep, curling, twisting part of her cringed at the notion of it all… and for once, every part of her agreed on the proper course of action.

"When one becomes a Kampfer, they change. Each transformation, they become a different person. They look different, act different, sound different – but you'd think for how distinct Kampfer are that they'd be remembered." Elma breathed, "They aren't. Not a single one. Because all Kampfer are eventually slain, until what remains are whispers of a myth."

"That doesn't _have_ to happen to you."

"No." Elma sighed, "It does. I've had my fun. And… you know, I don't think I'm _me_ anymore, anyway. I died when I got this bracelet," she lifted her arm, "What's dying again matter, anyway?" Elma chuckled, "I… I can't keep track of myself anymore. This is for the best."

For only a moment longer, she watched the sun. Then, she spun and struck at Lelouch.

Anticipating the attack, Lelouch fired back. A spear of ice flung its way from the waters and through Elma's side. She spat blood, coughed, and stepped back. One foot grazed the ledge, and she looked at Lelouch with wide eyes. A happy smile crossed her face – for once looking completely genuine.

"Ah…" she exhaled, "Darn. I… barely got anywhere, did I…?" Her skin was paling from blood loss. "Hey… prove me wrong. Can you do that much?" Blood dribbled down her lips, "That'd be… great. I… know I didn't have a good first impression… but… remember me, won't you?"

She stepped back again, and fell.

Lost as she was to the waves and ocean, her vision swam until it ceased. All she saw was the black armored hand reaching out to grab her before it fell _through_ her and she ceased to be.

All the while, Lelouch felt her eyes widen as the deceased Kampfer _vanished_ from view beneath the waves. With a blink of her eyes, the corpse ceased to exist. She swam to the surface, searching left and right for some proof of the deceased Kampfer's existence… and far off in the distance, where previously there was the sound of chaos and swarming rescue vehicles, there was silence.

-x-

End Eisritter Ch. 004


End file.
